


Tumble

by Ranaspel



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25183936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranaspel/pseuds/Ranaspel
Summary: "Solas pinning Lavellan to the ground on accident because he tried to protect her from a blast in battle with his body while pushing her out of the way. Their noses touch. They haven’t kissed yet. He blushes. "I mixed it up a tad.  Also, was slightly drunk when I banged this one out, so it's likely fairly garbage.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Tumble

She's flailing, emotionally and mentally. These strangers are flung into her life, or she's been flung into their lives, it's hard to tell. She covers it up with witty rejoinders, or sarcasm, or just asking questions and letting these strange people fill in the blanks in her new world, far from the forests and people she has known all her life. 

She dislikes the sensation intensely, it's the antithesis of what she has trained for her entire life. Balance, economy of movement that translates to grace, awareness of her surroundings that bordered on the supernatural to the ignorant, but was really just intense training that was essential for survival of not only herself but her clan. So she does what she is good at in an attempt to ground herself and hopes nobody notices that she really has no clue how to be a warleader, or whatever it is that she's falling into. First a spy for her clan, then an explosion of green, struggling through the fade (and what madness that was), falling flat on her face in front of a bunch of humans to become a shackled murder suspect. Humans who now practically worship her as the herald of some shem delusion, with the winds of fate whipping around her. 

The only thing even close to "normal" are her conversations with the strangely formal elven man who watched over her while she was unconscious. He's an enigma, definitely not Dalish, but even less so one of those sad folk who have been stunted by living in cramped ghettos, Chantry stansas filling their ears. So it's easy to seek him out in the chilly open air of Haven, to pry at his self assured veneer of civilized disintrest and get a real response from him. When he flirted with her in such an open and matter of fact way, her stomach did a little flip while her lips curved into a smile. "Declare it", indeed. So it was no surprise that she asked him to come with herself, Cassandra, and Varric to find this Chantrywoman, "Mother Giselle". 

The trip was not uneventful, with the fallout of mages and Templars spilling out over the land. She knew who she sympathized with more, and not just because the Templars brought up the old bile of her ancestral lands getting invaded by Chantry warriors. Still, it was almost like everyone was going mad, and the rogue mages and hunting templars were just as likely to attack their group as they were to flee. It was in the middle of one of these skirmishes that she found herself with her bow in hand, spinning around in time to see a small group of Templars come up to flank them while they were entangled with a trio of human mages. Solas was focused on targeting a dark haired mage that was spitting curses and incantations at Cassandra. Her companion is firing off a blast of arcane energy from his staff in a fluid movement that nearly looked like a dance, except for all the screaming going on. Taking advantage of her companion's distraction, the Templars charged, swords raised and shields lifted high to protect their vitals from her arrows. Well then, she didn't have to hit a major organ to cause some serious pain. With that thought in mind she drew an arrow back to her cheek while still turning towards the attackers and let the missile fly out with her breath. She could tell the armored fool closest to her thought she had missed, that surely she was aiming at the ground and now there she was in front of him, lightly armored and empty handed. The satisfaction he felt lasted until his brain caught up with the punch of impact as the arrow fired from a very short range embedded itself through his foot into the ground, and his howl of pain snapped Solas's focus as he realized the new danger they faced. His expression was a blur as her free hand gripped his shoulder as she ran past him, spinning the both of them out of the wild swing of the second Templar's great sword. Belatedly she realized just how _solid_ he was, and her light frame went careening off balance as her body played "crack the whip" with his. Since it took them further from bloodthirsty Templars, she was more than willing to go with it. Either his staff tangled with their legs, or the terrain conspired against them, because suddenly they were rolling on the ground, tangled together in the vegetation. 

"Ooof! Sorry, Solas! I, ah, hold on a bit…" she quickly mumbled as her limbs tried to sort out just where they currently resided. Arms? Check, left hand still gripping the bow, right hand on that amazingly broad chest. Legs? Oh. Wrapped around one of his thighs, and isn't _that_ an interesting sensation? Shame about her armor, it was blocking what she was sure would be a delightful experience. If, you know, she wasn't currently getting spells lobbed at her and swords swung at her. With a gasp she swings her head up, cheek and nose rubbing lightly against Solas's face. What in Thedas was she doing?! There's a fight going on around her, she could get them killed goofing off like this! 

Her addled thoughts had cleared up just in time, as the brute with the greatsword charged over with more enthusiasm than skill. With a movement as quick as a striking viper, she drops her bow and reaches down her body to whip out two daggers, flinging her body into an arc backwards to deflect the sword into the air. In a move that would be backbreaking in someone less flexible, she uses the momentum from the strike to continue backwards, pressing off the ground with her hands and somersaulting onto her feet. It's a pity she doesn't look down, because laying before her is Solas with heat spreading over his face with the most amazingly stunned expression she could ever have witnessed. 

"Move it or lose it, Chuckles!" Shouts Varric as he runs past, backing up Cassandra's charge. With a cough that could be called embarrassed if anyone had noticed, the apostate mage touches his face and rejoins the fray, and find himself looking at the fey woman when the battle is over, and find himself wondering...


End file.
